


Son of the Stars

by phoenixfawkes12



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Inception (2010), The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: AU: Harry Potter, Community: norsekink, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:46:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixfawkes12/pseuds/phoenixfawkes12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he'd fallen, the last place Loki had expected to wake was in the middle of a forest. He also hadn't expected to become involved in a world of magic, wizards and one very interesting Potions Master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a "Loki teaches at Hogwarts" prompt on norsekink back in December 2011. It evolved into a BEAST. I'm trying to clean it up piece by piece and figured I'd post it here, also. All errors are mine.

The Bifrost shudders under his feet. Loki sways but manages to retain his balance. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Thor stood farther down the Rainbow Bridge and struck it repeatedly with the great hammer Mjölnir. Cracks and fishers began to form in the wake of the strikes. Spider web fractures danced along the bridge. All Loki’s work stood on the edge of ruin. He could not let all he had achieved be undone. Didn’t Thor _understand_? He yelled at his brother. 

“What are you doing? If you destroy the bridge, you’ll never see her again!!” Her. Jane Foster. That Woman. She had gone and changed Thor. Her influence on him was clear. Three days ago (had it truly been so little time?) Thor was prepared to go to war with the Jötunn over the trespasses into the heart of Asgard. Now Thor defended the race of Frost Giants. Loki could still save them all. He just needed more time. Gathering himself, Loki sprints down the length of the unstable bridge and launches himself at his brother. Just as he reaches him, Thor strikes the bridge a final time. 

The Bifrost implodes around them. Thor and Loki are blown clear of the gaping hole for a moment. As they fall back towards it, Loki can see the broken, gapping, edges glittering in space. Several things occurred to the God of Mischief in those seconds of freefall. First, his plans for the extinction of the Frost Giants are destroyed, along with the Bifrost. Secondly, if his father awoke from the Odinsleep, he would surely be forced to stand trial for his attempted genocide of one of the nine realms. That seemed to be the least of his worries at the moment, as one final thought occurred to him. Trial didn’t matter because Loki was going to miss landing on the remains of the Bifrost. He was going to plummet into space. 

Gungnir glittered as Loki fell. He tightens his grip on the great spear, one last bastion of his short rule. His decent into the abyss is suddenly halted as the other end of the weapon is grasped in Thor’s hand. 

Thor hung into space just as Loki did. Standing behind him, gripping his son’s feet was the newly awakened All Father. _He caught us!_ thought Loki. _I can still make him understand_

“I could have done it, Father! For you! For all of us!” Loki searches his father’s face for some acknowledgement, some hint of his intentions towards his second son’s actions. All he sees there was a grave disappointment. 

“No, Loki,” the All Father said. Something in that moment was forcibly pulled from Loki’s chest. This man had been the only father that he had ever known. The only father he would ever know. Loki felt ice crawl through his veins, freezing the core of his being. He had nothing left. His grip began to slip on the spear. Maybe, then, it was better this way. No one to challenge Thor. Better, then, if no one remembered Loki. 

Thor was calling to him. “Loki…no!!” Giving his brother one last small smile, the Trickster lets go of the spear and allows himself to be pulled into the gapping endless silence of space.

As he falls, Loki thinks perhaps he hears someone yell into the darkness after him:

“NO!”  
\----  
Reality began to seep along the edges of Loki’s consciousness. He could vaguely make out some words, the sounds of hoof beats, the twang of a bow string pulling taunt. Every inch of his body hurt. Hurt…pain. He was in _pain_. The dead cannot feel pain, so that must mean the Loki was alive. All this revelation brought him was bitter anger. He didn’t even have the decency to die properly. The Fates seemed to enjoy having a grand laugh at Loki’s expense. 

A hoof landed in the soft soil near Loki’s head and it served to force him fully back into awareness. His eyes snap open and take in the site of the creature hovering over his prone form. The hind quarters of a stallion and the body of a human man, the being observed Loki with a fierce intelligence. A bow was in his hands and an arrow stood ready to be notched and drawn. A quiver was strapped to its chest. Clearly, this being was trained in the art of combat. Seeing that Loki’s eyes were open, the man-horse stepped back and spoke. “Ah, you are awake. Good. It is as I read in the heavens. You fell far, son of the stars.” 

Loki struggles to sit up. He manages to drag himself over to rest against the broken trunk of a tree. His breathing came quick, shallow and stabbing. He was sure that he was wheezing. The creature tilted his head again. “Have you a name, son of the stars? I am the centaur Firenze, and you are safe here, for a time. I have sent for aid for your injuries. Help will arrive soon.”

“Loki…my name is Loki.” The centaur bowed his head to him in a show of respect. “Well meet, Loki. As I said, I am Firenze. It was written that at the copse of the next Great War, aid would come to us from among the stars. I will admit that I did not expect that aid to come in the form of a man,” He glanced around him and for the first time Loki saw that he lay in what appeared to be a crater in the middle of a forest. “Or to have that aid cause quite so much destruction in my forest.” 

Firenze turned his head as twigs crunched under foot. Someone was approaching. The centaur turned as a cloaked figure entered the clearing. He brought the bow up and notched an arrow. “Name yourself ally or foe.” The cloaked human raised its hands to show it bore no weapons save what appeared to be a long wooden stick. The hands lowers the hood of the rich purple cloak. 

For one moment Loki’s heart stutters. _Father! You did not abandon me!_ he wants to call. In the next instant the man steps more fully into the moonlight and his features become clear. This was an old man, but no Odin. He was too thin to be the All Father. While he had a beard, it was longer then his father’s. He had the same electric blue eyes of his father and brother, but his eyes had a twinkle that he had never seen in Thor or Odin’s faces. He walks with measured steps. Finally, he turns to face Firenze. 

“It is I, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have come as summoned to offer aid to the ally of the centaur Firenze.” He looks down at Loki. He studied the Trickster for a moment with the same solemn look that had been on Firenze’s face. 

“If you are who I suspect you to be, and more often than not, my assumptions are correct, then you and I have a great deal to discuss. You have arrived just before the start of term, so avoiding uncomfortable questions will be significantly easier. I imagine you are full of questions, not to mention many injuries, so perhaps questions are best kept until we see you to Madam Pomfrey’s care, yes?”


	2. Chapter 2

Loki thinks he loses consciousness again, because the next thing is aware of is a cool hand on his brow. The hand stroked across his forehead and then leaves, only to be replaced moments later by an even cooler cloth. It feels _fantastic_. It reminds him of when he was ill as a child and Frigga (mother?) would care for him herself. Keeping his eyes closed, he listens to the sounds of the room around him. He can hear the footfalls on stone as the healer moves around his head. He lays still, allowing this person to think him asleep. As soon as they leave the room, he can try and make his escape. He is therefore surprised when a sharp voice states “I’ve been taking care of Weasleys’ for almost 20 years, so the whole ‘pretending to be asleep’ thing is old hat, my dear. Fred and George have you beat by a kilometer.”

Loki opens his eyes to see a kindly but stern face over his. “I think,” he says “I should very much like to stop waking up with people leaning over me.” The woman smiles and moves away from his face. Her arm slips around his waist and back and helps him sit up. 

“My name is Madam Pomfrey and I am the Healer in Residence here at Hogwarts. You’ve got five broken ribs, a punctured lung, a concussion; you managed to snap your left leg in two places, and are running a slight fever. Well, that is to say, you _had_ those injuries. Now we’re down to some soreness in the mended ribs, you may need the aid of a cane for a few days, and the fever has yet to break completely. All and all, not the worst injuries I’ve ever seen. You should have seen it last time Gryffindor played Slytherin for the Quidditch Cup! Why, I had half of the teams in the ward. One of the Chasers took a Bludger to the skull, and spent the next week thinking he was some sort of super villain, making capes out of bed sheets and the like.” 

Madam Pomfrey shakes her head and moves away from his bed. She turns her head and says “Gelda.” Just as Loki starts to wonder what in the nine realms a “Gelda” is, a small pop sounds and out of thin air a creature appears. It’s short, leathery looking and has gigantic eyes and droopy ears. It also seems to be wearing some sort of cloth dress in a red and gold print with a lion-like emblem on the front. “Gelda, if you please, the Headmaster asked to be informed when our new patient awoke. Could you go tell him for me?”

The creature bows and disappears just as suddenly as she came. Loki is familiar with many creatures, but had never seen one quite like that. He opens his mouth to ask, when the ward doors open to admit the Headmaster, followed a few steps later by an even sterner looking woman with a witch’s hat perched on her head and glasses sitting atop the end of her nose. Dumbledore smiles at him then claps his hands together. 

“Ah, I so very pleased to see you awake. Would you care for a lemon drop candy?” When Loki shakes his head ‘no’, the Headmaster turns and indicates the two women with him in the room. “You have already meet Madam Pomfrey.” With a nod to the Headmaster, she exits into a small room which must house her office. The door shuts behind her with a sharp click. “And this,” Dumbledore indicates the other woman, “is Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.” The severe looking woman pursed her lips and gave Loki a slight nod. 

Albus gives both Loki and McGonagall a smile and settles himself in a chair next to Loki’s bedside. He steeples his hands on his knees. “Now, I am sure you have many questions. Please, feel free to ask them.”

“Where am I?” Loki asked. It seemed the most relevant of the questions in his head. 

“You are in the medical ward at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, located in Scotland, the United Kingdom, on the planet Earth. Which is, of course, the realm of Midgard.” 

“How did I come to be here?” is the next question, followed closely by, “am I free to leave?”

At this Dumbledore seems to pause. “I must admit your arrival here is a point of confusion. You did not arrive in the traditional manner via the Bifrost. Normally if a visitor from the Realm Eternal is coming, Heimdall, jovial fellow that he is, sends word beforehand. This time, we had no warning, just you, plummeting into the Forbidden Forest. As to your second question: you are no prisoner here, but I do ask for a few days of your time. There are many questions I still have for you, as well as your lingering injuries to consider. Finally, I should very much like to talk to you about the possibility of employment here at Hogwarts.”

McGonagall looks surprised by this last bit of information. “Really, Albus? And where do you suggest we put him? It won’t be easy to hide that fact that a fallen deity has signed onto the staff! There will be questions! Inquiries!”

Albus continues to smile and pops a lemon candy into his mouth. “All things dealt with in time, Minerva. Now, if you decide to stay, we shall understandable need to get you a new identity. Perhaps I should send an owl to Mr. Eames, and get him started on the basic documentation and papers for work placement?”  
\---

Three days later Loki finds himself fully healed and prepared to accompany Dumbledore to London. They need to meet with the mysterious “Eames” and then Albus said they then must make a stop off in the Ministry and finally pick up a “few items” in Diagon Alley. Loki steps out of the castle and takes his first real breath of fresh air since landing on Midgard. Dumbledore follows him out onto the grounds, looking as serene as ever.

The castle was an interesting place, to be sure. He had yet to meet the remaining members of the staff, as he’d been confined to the Infirmary since his arrival. Dumbledore had explained to him the recent history of this realm, and the role he’d been taped to play.

It was early August, and students would be arriving on September 1st. This left just a month for Loki to get his cover story in place, meet the staff, and start to learn his place in this new life. He’d agreed to give Dumbledore a term, from September to Yule to prove his point. 

As they crossed near the lake, Dumbledore spoke. “There is a war coming, Loki. A deep and evil darkness is rising in our world. It threatens not just Magical and Muggle, but the safety of all the realms. If it is not contained here, on Midgard, this could spread throughout the braches of Yggdrasil, and infect the other realms. You have the potential to stop it. This is one of the rare occasions that we have need of aid from the other realms. So many here have forgotten what it used to be like, when the Bifrost allowed transportation for all to the various worlds. We, as a people, have forgotten a simple and universal truth: we are not alone in the cosmos.” 

Loki scoffs at him. “By your own admission, the Potter boy has a much larger role to play in this than I, but I shall give you time Dumbledore; for I think that I have a great deal more of it than you do old man. I fail to see how one _mortal_ man, no matter how talented this Dark Lord is, can cause the destruction that you seem confident is on the horizon.” 

Albus smiles his customary enigmatic smile. “Voldemort is a symptom of a much more deadly disease. Certainly, he is troubling. He fancies himself a master of death, and will do anything to stave off the confines of mortality. He fears death, the unknown, the journey that awaits us all. What makes him so very dangerous is his methods: he is without a soul. Utterly devoid of emotion and feeling. He will set the world aflame, simply to watch it burn and remake it in his image from the ashes. If Midgard falls, I fear for the fate of the remaining realms. Yggdrasil is in balance when the realms are in balance. Trim one branch off and the tree will start to wither.”

Loki felt that for all the information Dumbledore had given him, he’d held back even more. The man was simply infuriating. The duo strolls across the grounds and out the front gates with the winged boars standing guard. Once inside the boundaries of the nearby village, Dumbledore darted down a side alley. As Loki caught up with him, Albus extends his arm and asks Loki to firmly grasp it. “We shall be traveling by side-along apparition. It’s a method of magical transportation in this realm.” 

In response, Loki raised one eyebrow. “I’ve been walking between the realms and in the shadows for hundreds of years.” His tone suggests that he believed that Dumbledore was some kind of wondrous idiot. 

“Of course, but you don’t know where you are going. I fear if we surprise Mr. Eames, well, he’s quite likely to attempt to ‘unload a clip’ into us, as he says.” Sighing, Loki grips the old wizard’s arm. Suddenly, his feet were no longer on the ground, _he was being crushed, his eyes were forced back into his skull, his chest was on fire_ and just as suddenly as the feeling came, his feet slam into the floor and the world comes rushing back in. Dumbledore was a stabilizing presence next to him, and at the moment, the only thing keeping him upright. Loki’s head swam and his stomach rolled. Just as he was thinking of the ugliest curse he knew, a new voice spoke.

“Really now Albus, darling, did you need to bring him via side-along? Or were you just proving a point?”  
\---

 

Once his vision rights itself, Loki got his first good look at Eames. The man was good looking, with slicked back brown hair and cool grey eyes. He wore a paisley style shirt in yellow and orange print with brown trousers. He's leaning against a marble tiled fireplace. Next to him stood a desk, covered in papers and an open laptop. This man was more than he appears to be, grinning lazily at Loki, all sharp teeth

Eames pushes himself off the fireplace and extends a hand to Dumbledore. Albus shakes the offered hand, and then pulled the other man in for a hug. After slapping his back, Eames held the Headmaster at arm’s length and looked him over. “Merlin’s Beard, Albus. I have a fireplace, good sir. And Floo Powder. It’s an illegal connection, but so is most of what I do. You didn’t need to come crashing into the middle of the sitting room. Arthur is going to have a right fit. Which is fine. It’s a great deal of fun, winding the old stick in the mud up. But less about me and more about you. You don’t look like you’ve aged more than a few years!! What’s your secret, hmm? Eye of Newt? Unicorn Hair?”

Albus smiles. “My dear Eames, I may not look it, but I certainly feel older than the last time that we crossed paths. Alas, I fear I am not here on a social call. This,” he turns and motions for Loki to step forward “is the gentleman I was telling you about. He’s…been out of the country for a great many years, and requires all the necessary permits to work. He also needs a birth certificate, NI number, and all the bells and whistles.” Eames raised an eyebrow at Albus, the question clear in his eyes. He then shrugs and moves to the desk.

“All right, mate. Time to make you disappear…or reappear. Depends on how you’re looking at it. What you want your new name to be? I’ve got everything worked up, just need to input the names and dates.” Loki frowned. “My name is Loki.”

Eames rubs his eyes. “Yes, I know it is. We can’t use that. It’s unusual. You need to blend in.” Loki refuses to give up this last part of himself. “I said: my name is Loki.”

The forger waves his hand at Loki. “Fine, fine. Keep the name. It’s the magical world, after all. Loki isn’t the worst name I’ve ever heard. Now: last name. That must be common. Something like: Smith, Williams, Moore, or Taylor.” Loki tilts his head. “Foster. Loki Foster. Son of…Jane and Thomas Foster.”

The keyboard clicked away under Eames fingertips. “Foster. Good choice. Let’s make you…30. So, born February 9, 1962. Now: let’s make you a half-blood. Muggleborns and Pure-bloods tend to draw a lot of attention due to blood status debates. Better to split the difference and make you a little of each.” Sitting back and looking over his handy work, Eames asked a few more questions than printed off all the documents. In the space of an hour, Loki had a new name, an educational background, and all the paperwork he needed to work in the Magical world. He even had his own bank account at Gringott’s Bank. During all this Albus had wandered off into the other rooms of the flat. As the last of the documents print off, Eames looks around, then taped the leg of the desk he was seated at. A false panel opened, revealing a battered old wand. He held it with a reverence Loki had rarely seen given to an object. Noticing his stare, Eames explains.

“I wasn’t always a forger. Once, about 20 years ago, I was a precocious 15-year-old at Hogwarts. I’m half blood myself: mum’s a Muggle, and Dad’s a wizard. Well, Dad’s actually a Squib, so it was a shock when the Owl for Hogwarts showed up. Dad…that was the only day I’ve ever seen him cry. Also the only day he ever told me was proud of me. Anyway. I’m 15. Smart. Resourceful. In Slytherin House. Sorting Hat took 15 minutes to decide where to place me. Said ‘lots of courage, smart mind, willingness to bend the rules’ then, finally placed me in Slytherin. Five years go by. I’m tops at Charms and Transfiguration. So, I’m getting ready to sit for my OWL’s. Kid next to me brings a trick quill in with him. Poor little Hufflepuff, scared out of his mind. He got caught. I don’t know why I did it…but I said it was mine. Cheating on the OWL’s…its grounds for expulsion. I managed to slide my wand up my sleeve, and when they snapped ‘my’ wand, it was really the trick quill that I transfigured. First wands…they aren’t meant to last forever. Needs change, etc.  
I can never go back. So _this_ ” he taps the wand on the documents in front of him and mutters something under his breath.

Instantly, the documents transform from the white printer paper covered in laser jet ink to parchment and ink covered scrolls. Seals appear on the forms, appropriate official signatures filled themselves in, and the whole thing tied itself up with a green bow tie. “This is me. Helping people move around in the magical world when more official doors would be closed to them. I can’t go back. Dumbledore tells me you’re important. So go be important.” With that he hands Loki the scrolls. 

Albus comes back in the room. He eyes the scroll. “Ah, wonderful work as always, Mr. Eames. Do you mind if we use your Floo connection. We need to go by the Ministry and file these, then off to Diagon Alley for a stop off at Olivander’s.” He nods to the battered wand in Eames’ hand. “Perhaps I could ask Mr. Olivander to take a look at that?” Eames smiles. 

“Perhaps next time, Albus. Now, off with you two. Arthur is due home soon, and I need to clean all this up.” With a handshake for both Loki and Albus, Eames lifts a small pot off the mantle and hands it to Dumbledore. Inside was a shimmering powder. Albus took a pinch, steps into the fire place, pulls Loki in next to him, tosses the powder and yells “Ministry of Magic!” 

With a _whoosh_ they disappear.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I attempted to go back and change the entire story into a present tense. Hopefully, this makes more sense. Let me know if anything else needs fixed.*

The fireplace dislodges them into a huge stone hall with a fountain at its heart. Loki felt like his head was on a swivel as he attempts to take everything in. Dumbledore discreetly pulls him along to the front of a line where a harassed-looking witch stands. Albus smiles at her. “Ah! Ms. Anders, how lovely to see you again. Loki, this is Ms. Anders, one of the brightest Ravenclaw students to come out of Hogwarts in recent years.”  
The petite blond grins at him and asks: “Full name and reason for visit to the Ministry?” Loki glances at Dumbledore then replies with as little information as possible. “Loki Foster. Work Placement.” Anders nods her head and a badge slides out in front of Loki. “Please attach this to your chest where it is visible at all times. Next, please present your wand for inspection.” The badge had on it in very perfect writing: Loki Foster, Paperwork.

Dumbledore smoothly took over, saying “Unfortunately, Mr. Foster’s wand was destroyed during a terrible encounter with a troll. Alas, we shall be reporting to Olivander’s straight away to get him a new one.” The woman shrugs and repeats the process with Dumbledore. Once his wand had been inspected and a name badge produced (Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Escorting New Hire) they were allowed into the depths of the Ministry. 

Dumbledore directs them into a lift, which quickly fills up with more employees, visitors, and to Loki’s amusement, a number of paper airplanes that hover in the air above their heads, entering and exiting the lifts at their conveniences. As the lift stops at Level 4: Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the lift doors open to admit one of the most unattractive people Loki had ever seen. 

The woman was short, stocky and dressed in a frankly alarming amount of pink. Her hair is styled in tight pin curls, and her face had a definite toad-like structure to it. She clears her throat ( _hem-hem_ ) once she catches sight of Albus. She smiles a small, tight smile. “Good Afternoon, Headmaster. What brings you into the Ministry today? As Undersecretary to Minister Fudge, I of course have access to his complete schedule and I must say, you were not on it for an appointment for today. Please understand, Headmaster that the Minster is extremely busy and cannot simply drop everything because you’ve suddenly popped in for a spot of tea!” 

Albus inclines his head towards the woman. “Rest assured, Dolores that I am not here to take up more of the Minister’s time today. Both you and he are aware of my feelings on the new Werewolf legislation that you are planning on passing. I am here to make sure all the proper forms are filed so that I can get Mr. Foster here settled in his new position at Hogwarts. Loki, this is Dolores Umbridge. She works directly for the Minister. Dolores, I would like to introduce you to Loki Foster, the newest member of my staff.” 

Despite the fact that Loki was well over a foot taller than her, Umbridge gave him the distinct impression that she was looking down her nose at him. “Hm. Foster. Not familiar with that family line. Not a pure blood name, that’s for sure” She turns away from him in a clear dismissal. “Albus, you and I have been back and forth on the new legislation. Lycanthropy is a disease, and must be regulated as such!” Under her breath, Loki clearly hears her mutter “Filthy half-breeds.” 

The lift dings and Umbridge exits. It takes a moment for her to notice that she is being followed by every piece of correspondence in the lift. Around her, doors are opening and more airplane letters are pouring into the hallway. All at once, the letters dive bomb her as the song _Flight of the Bumblebees_ blares from around them, even though no speakers can be seen. Umbridge covers her head and is forced to run screaming down the hall. The lift doors close and Dumbledore exchanges a look with Loki. 

“Oh come now Albus. It’s just a bit of fun.” Loki snickers to himself as Albus attempts to repress a smile.

Luckily the remainder of their time in the Ministry is blissfully drama free. Loki’s documents are filed with the Department of Magical Births, Deaths, Jobs, Taxes and Marriages, and just like that Loki Foster is employed as a staff member at Hogwarts. The duo leaves the Ministry and enters into the hub of magical shopping in London: Diagon Alley. Loki has to restrain himself from running over and pressing his nose against the glass of the book shop. He marvels at the wealth of magical knowledge around him. Here, magic is practiced openly and is revered. It’s not something to be looked down upon as a lesser art. Here, magic is simply a way of life. This place, Loki thinks, could become a welcome home indeed. 

Dumbledore makes stops at the Apothecary, the Owl Emporium (where Loki eyes a stunning owl that the proprietor tells him is one of the last Laughing Owls. He smiles at the irony) and the cauldron shop (“We’ve seemed to have upped our number of cauldron’s melted since last year. Severus insists its Mr. Longbottom’s fault”). The final stop they make is to a small shop outside which hangs a sign that says _Olivander’s: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._. 

Loki has been most curious about this part of the day. He requires no wand to cast his magic, but Albus insists that performing 'wand less' magic all the time will surely raise eyebrows. Getting a wand of his own will aid in his cover, so Loki goes along with it.

A bell rings over the door as they enter and a voice calls out “Just a moment! I’ll be right there.”

From out of the stacks of boxes comes a short elderly man with wispy white hair and eyes that are the palest silver. His skin is wrinkled and he shuffles when he moves, but there is no doubt that this man is fiercely intelligent. Loki immediately finds himself standing straighter in his presence. The man breaks into a genuine smile once he sees who is in his shop. “Albus! What brings you to my shop. I know your wand is still in perfect order” 

His gaze turns to Loki. “So, then, this man must have need of a wand then?” He beckons Loki forward.”Hmm. I remember every wand I have ever sold. Every wand. I have never sold one to you, sir.” Olivander turns and gives Albus a look. The two appear to be having some sort of silent conversation. Albus takes a seat in a chair in the corner. 

“Loki Foster, this is Garrick Olivander. He makes, arguably, the very best wands in the entire world.” Olivander scoffs at Dumbledore. With a quick snap of his fingers, tape measures appear from thin air and of their own accord start measuring Loki. Olivander moves in a slow circle around Loki muttering under his breath. “Special case indeed. Much older than you look, I wager. Tall stature, elegant hands, some scars and calluses, possible history of potion making. Longer hair, so talented at potions or would be missing large chunks. Dominant hand?” 

It takes Loki a moment to realize he’s being addressed. “Ambidextrous.” Olivander nods, then moves off to the depths of the shop. He returns with a stack of boxes with several more floating in the air behind him. 

The first wand is thrust into his hand. “Oak, 11 inches, firm, dragon heart string core.” As soon as Loki closes his fingers over the wand, it shots a beam of light and lights a shelf on fire. 

“No, no, not that one.” Completely at ease with the fact that _his shop is on fire_ Olivander aims a quick spell over his shoulder and the fire snuffs out. Next a wand of “Hawthorn, 14 inches, rigid, unicorn hair core” is handed over. This one causes the store front windows to explode in a shower of glass. A dozen more wands pass through Loki’s hands in a similar fashion. Some are pulled from his hand before he can wave it, others repel themselves from his grip and one wand (Pine, 10 inches, springy, phoenix feather core) attempts to impale Dumbledore. All the while Olivander is serene in the destruction that Loki is causing in his shop. He seems to be enjoying the challenge. 

“The wand choices the wizard, Mr. Foster. Some matches simply take longer to find then others. You are, after all, extraordinary. Wands show the core of their masters. They can do great things. Terrible things, oh yes, but great.” Olivander taps his fingers along his chin. He appears to be deep in thought. 

“It would seem conventional cores are too weak for your magic. Other woods are too springy or weak and run the risk of cracking. So, you need a rare core and a strong wood…just a moment. I may have just the thing. It’s a boomslang venom core that has been crystallized, housed in Dogwood. Excellent for jinxes and curses. Especially adept for someone with great skill in Transfiguration. Extremely sturdy, 13 inches long. It was willed to the Olivander’s over 500 years ago, from a family in Norway. Apparently this wand is very strongly rooted in the Nordic traditions.” He disappears into the back of the shop and returns with a black box, lined in emerald and silver. Loki draws a quick breath as the design on the box is fully revealed. It’s a tree with nine branches. 

Olivander opens the box to reveal a stunning wand lying in a bed of green velvet. The wand is inlaid with silver spirals that run the length of the wood, forming knots that seem to _slither_ up and down the wand. With a nod of encouragement from Olivander, Loki reaches into the box and grasps the wand. Instantly he feels _right_. Like some long missing part of himself has slide into place.

Olivander smiles. “You see: the wand picks this wizard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki's wand core and wood types were researched from this amazing site [ All credit goes to them and their work. Really, its amazing](http://wizardingrealm.net/index.php?showtopic=111)


	4. Chapter 4

Clutching his new wand like a prized object, Loki and Dumbledore return to Hogwarts. Loki insists that Albus teach him to Apparate. If he’s going to blend in, he needs to be able to travel like the other magical folk. He can’t just go off disappearing into the shadows whenever he needs to travel around other people. It takes him more attempts than he is strictly willing to admit to (and one misplaced eyebrow), but before long, Loki can move himself around at will.

The month leading up to term moves quickly. Loki is assigned his own chambers and settles in nicely. Everything in his rooms is well appointed and redecorates itself at his whims and wishes. He does have one grip, a particularly mouthy mirror that insists on telling him to eat more every time he walks by (“Really, dear, you must try and eat more. You’re looking a bit lean, don’t you agree? And get a haircut, it’s a bit long.”) He makes quick friends with the resident poltergeist, Peeves, whose sole purpose seems to be to drive Mr. Filtch, the caretaker of the castle, insane. Loki and Peeves spend many afternoons plotting new and more elaborate pranks to pull on Filtch.

Finally, one week before the start of term, the other faculty and staff members begin to return to the castle. Loki already knows Minerva and Pomfrey, Flitch and Peeves. He’s summoned to Dumbledore’s office one afternoon for tea and to discuss what Albus expects Loki to be doing during the school term. 

“You’ve had millenniums to learn magic,” Albus says as he pours a cup of tea for Loki, “and even after all that time, its forever a learning process. Students come to Hogwarts, and they have seven years to get their basic magical education before deciding what they want to do with their lives. Some choose further study, others choose immediate job placement, and others come back here, to teach the next generation. Now, with your wealth of knowledge, I would very much like to see you as a…floating professor.” 

Loki tilts his head and sips his tea, waiting for Dumbledore to continue. “You’ve got great talent in Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Herbology. I’d like to see you assist in the teaching of those classes. If you’d like, Care of Magical Creatures and Defense Against the Dark Arts may need some extra hands this year also.”

Loki sits his cup down and looks at Dumbledore. “You want me to assist in the teaching of impressionable youths. While having access to extremely volatile potion ingredients.” 

“Yes, that’s it exactly” Albus smiles as he sips his tea. 

Three days before term starts Albus hosts his ‘welcome back, get to know new staff members' (yes that means you have to attend, Severus) meeting. Loki meets Hagrid, the groundskeeper, who nearly knocks him over with a hearty slap on the back, the tiny Flitwick, who seems to be in love with the idea of help with his classes, and the Herbology professor, Sprout, who engages Loki in a half hour long discussion on the properties of belladonna and gillyweed. 

The door to the staff room opens to admit two more people. One is a garishly dressed man in robes of magenta with golden hair and teeth so white they seem to sparkle. He’s animatedly talking to the second man who looks like he’s contemplating throwing himself out the nearest window to escape continuing this conversation. 

The second man makes Loki sit up a little straighter. He’s dressed in a black frock coat with a white shirt, slightly open at the collar, exposing hints of his neck and collarbones, and slacks. His hair is as dark as Loki’s own but appears to be greasy and hangs into his face. He has pitch black eyes and a hooked nose. His entire presence exudes menace and power. Then he opens his mouth and starts talking. 

“Gilderoy” he says and _oh_ that _voice_ it’s like melted honey wrapped in sex. Loki feels a hot swoop of desire pool in the pit of his stomach. “As much as I value your…opinion, I need to go. And speak to” He raises his head and looks around the room, catching sight of Loki seated by the fire, “Whoever that gentleman over there is.” Without waiting for a reply from his companion, he turns on his heel and makes his way over to Loki. 

Completely nonplused by the clear dismissal, Gilderoy follows him over. Loki stands as the two men approach. Just as he opens his mouth to talk, Albus clinks his tea cup with a spoon and the focus of the room shifts to him. 

“Welcome! Welcome! Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts! I am so glad to see so many returning staff members and to offer my sincerest welcome to two more joining our ranks this year. First, assuming the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, we have Gilderoy Lockhart.” 

Lockhart takes a bow to a smattering of applause. “Thank you Albus! As a five time winner of _Witch Weekly’s_ Most Charming Smile Award, not to mention being a multi award winning bestselling author at the top of the _Daily Prophet_ lists, it is an honor to be teaching here at Hogwarts. I look forward to meeting with each and every one of you and discussing all the things I can teach you!” Grinning widely, Lockhart takes a seat next to Loki, seemingly unawares of the looks many members of the staff are giving him.

Albus signals for Loki to stand. “And the second new addition to our staff is Mr. Loki Foster. He boasts an exceptional magical background and will be assisting in the teaching of Transfiguration, Charms, Potions and Herbology this term. Professors Sprout, McGonagall, Flitwick and Snape should meet with him at your earliest convince to plot coursework and schedules.” More applause greets Loki’s announcement. As the afternoon wears on he discusses potential aid with some of the staff members. He settles on times to meet with three of the four professors. 

The only one who hasn’t sought him out is Snape. Loki makes his way over to the dark haired man and ventures to speak. “As you’re the only professor I’ve yet to meet, I am going to assume that you must be the elusive Professor Snape?” The man extends his hand and gives Loki a quick handshake.

“Severus Snape. Now, let me be clear on something. I do not want nor do I require any teaching assistance from you. I have been at my post for 13 years and I can guarantee you that there is nothing that some upstart from overseas can teach me about my chosen field.” 

Loki thinks his eyebrows may be taking up permanent residence in his hairline. He grins, showing teeth, and replies “Well, that seems like a direct challenge. Perhaps I could show you some of my brewing skills and let them speak for themselves?”

Snape sighs dramatically. “Fine. Dumbledore has informed me that despite my objections I will be saddled with your presence this term. Let’s hope you are more talented than most of the dunderheads that pass through these halls.” With a swish of his robes, Snape turns and exits the room.

Loki hears Lockhart talking with the ghost of Professor Binns: “I’m something of an expert on mythology, you see. Why, according to all the books I’ve read and written a few myself, there’s no bases for fact that any of the old Gods every existed! It’s just the way that a primitive people conceptualized a world that they didn’t understand!”

As the meeting ends and everyone goes their separate ways, Loki decides two things. First, he is going to enjoy annoying the hell out of Gilderoy Lockhart. Secondly, he is going to sleep with Severus Snape.  
\---  
The next day found Loki in the dungeons with the surly Potions Master. Snape seemed to have decided it’s his new purpose in life to try and find something that Loki can’t brew, an ingredient that he can’t cut or something else to trip Loki up and prove that the Professor doesn’t require assistance. In return Loki brews every single potion that Snape throws at him perfectly. He even improves the technique on one potion. Snape seethes in the corner. Every attempt at conversation is ruthlessly struck down. At one point, Severus casts a silencing bubble around himself and goes back to working on course schedules. 

After taking a break for lunch, the Potions Master finally decides to talk to Loki. “I will admit that your brewing skills are above average. The 6th year students are required to brew Amortentia. Perhaps you could tell me the properties of it, and then assist in the brewing?” Loki sighs. He feels like he’s back on Asgard sitting at the Academy there, learning rudimentary brewing. 

“Amortentia: a love potion that creates extreme sensations of love or infatuation in the drinker. Effects are instantaneous and repeat doses must be administered to maintain the illusion. The potion is easily recognizable by its mother of pearl sheen and spiraling steam. However, the most notable characteristic of Amortentia is the smell. Each person will smell the things they find most attractive, even if the person isn’t overtly aware of the attraction.” What he doesn’t mention is the fact that Amora the Enchantress would brew this particular potion by the cauldron full, and Loki would assist her in his apprentice days. To him, the potion had always smelled like rain, old books and lavender.

As he set about brewing the concoction, Loki began to notice something peculiar. The smell had changed. He ran over the steps in his head and it was brewed perfectly. The sheen was correct and the steam was rising in spirals. Yet the smell was different. The freshness of the rain, the mustiness of the books and the calming scent of lavender was no longer present. It its place was the slightly spicy sent of sandalwood, the richness of dark chocolate and the sweetness of honey. He shrugged it off until Snape came over to inspect his work. The Potions Master bumped shoulders with him as he leaned over the cauldron inspecting the contents. It was then that Loki was able to smell the scent of the man himself. And Snape smelled distinctly of sandalwood.

Well. _That_ complicated things.

Sure Loki was aware on a basic level that he was attracted to the other man and wanted to sleep with him, but he’d been attracted to lots of people over the centuries and no one had ever changed the way this potion smelled to him. Yes, this did indeed complicate things. The conundrum of the Amortentia potion consumed his thoughts for the next two days. 

That is until two second year Gryffindors crashed a blue Ford Anglia onto the grounds and Loki was introduced to the famous Harry Potter.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki was running late to the Welcoming Feast. He suspected that he was on the verge of missing his introduction to the student body and the event he most wanted to see, the Sorting Hat ceremony. He’d been unable to decide what robes to wear and the mirror in his chambers had been a complete lack of help ( _why dearie, don’t wear the green and silver, people will think you’re showing favoritism_ ). When one had to compete in a dressing contest with the likes of Gilderoy Lockhart, fashion choices are key. Finally settling on robes of steel grey, Loki was on his way out of his chambers when a flash of something blue passed by his window. Backtracking, he looked over the grounds and was shocked to see a _car_ flying low over the castle and banking hard left and right. It gave one final shudder and crashed into the Whomping Willow, ejecting two students, an owl and various and sundry pieces of luggage before driving itself into the Forbidden Forest. 

The two boys looked to be unharmed and were heading for the great oak doors that lead into the castle. Loki left his chambers and took the grand staircase down to intercept them as they entered the school. As he came to the bottom of the stairs, the two boys had their trunks pushed up against the doors leading into the Great Hall and were standing on them, noses pressed against the glass. From a side door that leads to the staff table, Severus slipped out of the shadows and moved to stand behind the boys. Loki moves silently to the space next to him. Snape cocks an eyebrow buts says nothing.

Loki can’t make out every word the boys are saying, but he does hear “ill” “left” “saked” and “Snape.” This is precisely the moment that Severus opens his mouth and says “or maybe he’s waiting to hear why you two didn’t arrive on the school train.” The two boys jump several feet in the air and spin around. The redhead gets tangled up and falls flat on his face at the feet of the Potions Master. The second boy, leaner then the redhead, still jumps but manages to keep his feet under him. As he climbs off his trunk, Loki sees the distinct shape of a broom strapped to the top. _Ah, Quidditch player. Explains the reflexes_ he thinks. 

Severus motions for the two students to follow him. They all end up in Snape’s office. The boys sit in the chairs in front of the desk, Severus stands behind it, and Loki contents himself with draping over another chair in the corner, long legs tossed over the sides.

“So,” Severus drawls slowly, his voice full of acid and menace, “the train wasn’t good enough for the famous Harry Potter and his sidekick Weasley?” Both boys attempt to launch into an explanation regarding house elves, puddings, rescues in the dead of night, closed barriers at the train station, and borrowed flying cars. Snape silences with a slice of his hand through the air.

From the desk he produces a copy of the evening paper. “You were _seen!_ You have not only risked your own lives, but the safety of our _entire world._ Were it up to me, you would be expelled and on the train back to London this very evening. Unfortunately, the responsibility for your punishment does not lie with me. So I shall go summon the Headmaster and your Head of House and let them deal with your appalling actions.” With a nod to Loki, Severus exits the room. Both boys look frightened and lost. 

Harry turns to Loki and says quietly and with as much grace as a terrified 12-year-old can muster, “I’m sorry, I don’t think Professor Snape introduced you. Sometimes he has atrocious manners.” Loki lets lose a bark of laughter before he catches himself and attempts to school his features into something resembling a professional expression. He suspects that he’s failing.

He sweeps to his feet in one graceful motion and gives his best court bow to the two boys. “My name is Loki Foster and I am going to be serving as a floating professor this term. If this experiment of Dumbledore’s works, I shall remain the entire school year, but for right now, I shall be here through Yule.” 

Weasley eyes him with no small degree of suspicion. “And what’ll you be teaching?” He seems to have produced a pack of crisps from his robe pocket and crumbs are raining down on Snape’s desk. He offers one to Potter who declines with a shake of his head. 

“I’ll be assisting in Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms and Potions. Possible elsewhere as needed.” Both boys now look impressed. 

“You’re helping in _Potions?_ I can’t imagine Professor Snape was…thrilled…with that idea,” says Harry as Weasley nods. 

Loki allows a grin to cross his features. “No, Professor Snape was less than thrilled with the idea of an assistant. Alas, Dumbledore overruled him.” The office door opened to admit the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall and Snape. Loki took this as his cue to leave. 

“Albus, Minerva, Severus. A good evening to you. And to your, Misters Potter and Weasley, it was a pleasure to meet you.”  
\---  
Both boys are present and accounted for at breakfast the next morning, and somehow Gryffindor seems no worse for the wear in terms of house points. Loki needs to catch Dumbledore and get a full report of how _that_ happened.

Albus stands and taps his goblet and all the heads in the Great Hall swivel towards him. “One final note before we finish our meal and head out to fill our heads with knowledge. Last night I was unable to introduce the final addition to our staff, as he was assisting in some disciplinary action,” at that he eyes the Gryffindor table. Loki sees Potter slouch down in his seat. “so without further ado, please welcome Professor Loki Foster to Hogwarts. He shall be assisting in a number of classes this year and has the same points capabilities as other professors. I expect him to be treated with all the same respect that the rest of the staff is shown.”

Loki is greeted with applause and several students appear to be climbing atop of chairs to get a better look at him. One particular student is poking her neighbor repeatedly in the side and appears to be mouthing _look at him, oh my god, those eyes, he’s so handsome!_ Albus retakes his seat and breakfast picks up where it left off.

As the morning owls swoop in, Dumbledore looks up from his eggs and pumpkin juice and eyes the Gryffindor table. “Ah, it seems Mr. Weasley has received a Howler. Molly did seem extremely upset with the owl I sent her last night. Alas, she does have quite the temper.” He continues to eat and acts completely unaffected as what Loki assumes in Mrs. Weasley’s voice, magical modified screams at her youngest son from within the burning and smoking red envelope. 

Loki finishes his breakfast as the students begin to file out. He follows Minerva to the Transfiguration classroom for the first lesson of the day.

It’s natural for Loki, the shifting of forms and manipulation of objects. Transfiguration is so much of what Loki _is_. The fluid movement between forms is a simple to him as changing his clothes. Slipping into another skin is as common as eating breakfast. It’s the essence of his magic and he revels in it.

The 6th year class of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors is up first and Loki proceeds to stun them into silence by standing in front of the class and shifting himself into a redhead with curly hair and blue eyes, then into Professor Dumbledore and finally into his female form. At this point a student by the name of Oliver Wood looks like he may just fall out of his chair. 

Wood opens and closes his mouth half a dozen times before he manages to sputter, “You…you…you’re a Metamorphmagus? That’s…amazing!” McGonagall smiles proudly as the lesson proceeds with Loki assuming the forms of most of the staff and several of the students before the bell rings. Afterwards, he’s swarmed with students asking him questions about his abilities and requests for different features. By the time the class has cleared out Loki has gone through several different hair colors, facial features and at one point had a rhino horn sprouting from his forehead. 

Minerva finally shows the last of the students out and closes the door. There’s a brief break between classes. She turns and Loki tilts his head, waiting for her to speak. She pats him on the arm and gives him one of her rare smiles. “I think this is best first lesson I’ve had in awhile. Now my own Animagi form looks positively droll next to this!” He smiles in return and it takes him a full minute to place the warm feeling growing in his stomach. Pride. He’s able to show off his abilities here and he’s proud of it. 

The first week passes in much the same way. Word of his abilities seemed to have run like wildfire through the school and before long students are lining up outside the Transfiguration room to ask for help with their assignments. On one memorable occasion, a first year named Colin Creevy bursts into tears after successful being coached by Loki into changing a match into a needle and back again. He then proceeds to take a picture of Loki with a flash so bright Loki sees stars for the rest of the day. He comes to find out later that the picture has been duplicated dozens of times and most of the female students have a copy.

The second and third weeks of the term are spent in Herbology and Charms. He aids in the repotting of Mandrakes and the teaching of Cheering charms. Finally, in the first week of October, Loki gets to assist in his first potions class.  
\-----  
Snape is in a foul mood when Loki arrives in the dungeons. He’s waving his wand around and caldrons zoom by Loki’s head as he sets up the classroom. Severus doesn’t even look up when he enters the room; he simply points into the ingredient storage cupboard and says “Wiggenweld Potion.” 

Loki changes course and begins to assemble the necessary ingredients. The students begin to file in and take their seats. It’s the second year combined class of Gryffindor and Slytherin students. Potter, Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy are among the students today. Loki also sees Crabbe and Goyle but he thinks that they may have just followed Malfoy in. 

With a swish of his black cloak, Snape assumes his place at the front of the class. Silence immediately descends on the class. “Today we will continue the study of healing drafts by reviewing a potion we did last year: Wiggenweld. Now, it’s clear to me that information leeches from your heads like snot, so let us begin with a review. Who can tell me the properties of Wiggenweld potion?”

A few tentative hands rise around the room. Hermione Granger’s hand shoots into the air and she appears to be vibrating in her seat. Snape seems to be deliberately ignoring her. Instead he looks to her neighbor. 

“Weasley?” he drawls. Ron’s head swivels around in an obvious attempt to find some other Weasley in the room. 

“Um…it’s…a green potion…used…in…potions” he finishes. Snape raises an eyebrow at him. 

“My my, Weasley. So little knowledge of one of the most common potions used in the world. Tsk tsk.” Ron flushes a deep red and looks down at the work table. Snape asks several more students for the answer with limited degrees of success. 

Finally Loki has enough of the clear favoritism and calls out, “Mr. Goyle, perhaps you may know the answer?” Snape spins around and fixes Loki with a scathing look before returning his attention to Goyle, who looks confused. He seems to be attempting to jam one whole finger into his left ear. He just shakes his head ‘no’. Loki then turns to look at the Gryffindors. “Ms. Granger?”

Hermione sits straighter in her chair and takes a deep breath. “Wiggenweld potion is a basic healing draft. It is green in color and can awaking a person from a magically induced sleep, up to and including the Draught of Living Death. It can be brewed at various strengths and potencies. The first recorded use of the potion was by a prince to awaken his intended princess from a poisoning by the Hag Leticia. He placed some of the potion on her mouth and then kissed her, thus reviving her.” Loki nods.

Snape cuts off any praise he may offer by saying “A textbook answer, Ms. Granger. While all the information is correct, it’s clear to me that you have simple mesmerized the source material. Now ingredients are up front, cauldrons are on the desks and instructions are on the board. You have one hour to produce a draft for inspection. This is an individual assignment, which means, no one is to aid Longbottom.” As the students form lines to get the supplies Snape inclines his head to Loki. “Professor Foster, a word if I may?” He indicates the door to his adjourning office. 

Loki and Snape cross into the office and as soon as they are out of range of the students, Snape wheels on him. “What are you playing at?”

“Excuse me?”

“This is _my_ class and even though you may be skilled at potions, do not assume that you are to attempt to run my class. I call on the students!”

Loki feels a twitch of anger. “What you mean to say is that you call on the students you want to humiliate. Granger knew the answer. You didn’t have to do that. I also notice that you didn’t call on any Slytherin students who did not have their hands raised.”

Snape opens his mouth to say something when a _boom_ followed by smoke pours from the classroom. Both men raise their wands and run back in. The source of the explosion is clearly Neville Longbottom.  
His cauldron has melted into sludge on the table and his hair is burnt at the ends. Snape uses his wand to look in the remains of the cauldron. His wand tip comes away covered in large granules. 

“Longbottom, this appears to be asphodel root. It looks to have been mashed into a grain instead of ground into a very fine powder, as the instructions specify. Surely, no one could be so stupid as to have used a granulated version of the root in place of the powdered one. Because, Longbottom, do you know what happens when the two are interchanged?” Neville’s eyes are darting between the remains of his cauldron and Snape’s face. 

“It explodes, sir,” he whispers. 

“That’s right, Longbottom. It explodes. This is the third cauldron you’ve managed to destroy this term. I shall start having to bill your grandmother directly for my classroom supplies. Twenty points from Gryffindor and a detention to be served tonight at 7 here. I have a vat of rat tails that need processed.” 

Snape turns away and supervises the rest of the lesson. As the class ends and the students leave, he spins towards Loki. “Since you seem so keen on ‘helping’ the students, you can handle Longbottom’s dentition tonight. I expect the whole vat of tails in the storage room to be processed.” Severus leaves with his customary swishing of robes.


	6. Chapter 6

Promptly at seven, there is a knock on the classroom door. It opens and a clearly nervous Neville walks in. He seems surprised to see Loki sitting at the desk with his feet propped up on the surface. 

“Sir, I’m to meet Professor Snape here tonight for a detention. Do you know where he’s at?” Neville is twisting his hands over each other and is sweating. Loki sits up and comes around to lean against the front of the desk. He’s removed his robes, leaving him in black slacks and a purple shirt rolled up to his elbows. 

“Professor Snape has asked me to supervise your detention tonight. He asks that you process the vat of rat tails in the storage area.” Longbottom nods and begins to trudge off to the storage area.

“It’s already been done.” 

He stops and turns back to face Loki. “I…I don’t understand Professor Foster, sir.” 

Loki pushes off the desk and moves so that he’s a few feet from the student. “I processed all the tails myself. It’s already been done.”

“Why did you do that, sir?” Neville looks confused. Loki indicates the student work table where all the supplies are set out for the Wiggenweld draft. 

“I felt that this time could be better utilized in another attempt at the potion from class this morning.” He takes a seat on one side of the table and indicates that Neville should sit on the other side. 

Neville flinches, but moves over to the cauldron and lights it. As he begins to shred the dittany, Loki notices his hands are shaking. He reaches over and stills the boy’s hands.

“Neville. What are you so afraid of?” The boy tries to keep chopping and refuses to make eye contact with him. Finally he mumbles. “I’m rubbish at Potions, sir. I panic and can’t think straight.”

Loki nods. “Tell me the properties of the dittany you are chopping.” Neville looks up, surprised, and then says “Dittany is an overall term for several types of the plant: white, dittany of Crete and common dittany. It’s a common restorative in healing drafts. It’s also known as the ‘burning bush’ plant.” 

Offering Neville a smile, Loki bobs his head. “That is exactly right. Five points for Gryffindor. Professor Sprout told me how skilled you where at Herbology.” The boy looks pleased at this. “Here’s what you need to understand, Neville. Herbology and Potions are two sides of the exact same coin. Herbology is the growing of the ingredients, and Potions is the brewing of that plant. You know all about plants. You are a very smart boy. Now, show me.”

He steps back from the table and watches as Neville works on the potion. It take almost two hours, but on the third attempt (and second cauldron), he produces a beautiful Wiggenweld potion. By the time Loki sends him on his way, Neville has earned back all the points he’d lost earlier in the day. As he turns to leave Loki calls out to him. He turns around and catches the silver Sickle tossed to him. 

“Remember, Neville. Two sides of the same coin.”

After cleaning up the classroom and locking the door, Loki returns to his quarters and settles by the fire with a glass of firewhiskey. Just as he’s preparing for bed, a knock comes at the door. He sighs and almost ignores it, but the pounding continues. 

Crossing over, he opens the door and is nearly bowled over by Snape as he storms into the room without so much as a hello. “Yes, please, of course come in. I wasn’t about to turn in or anything. Would you like a nightcap? Some food? Nice shag?” He rolls his eyes as Severus paces the length of the room. “What can I do for you, Severus?”

“You had no right. _No right._ ” He looks positively enraged. 

Loki pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not up for games tonight. What do you believe I had no right to do?” 

“Longbottom. You changed the terms of his detention without my permission. Those rat tails in the lab could never have been processed by a student, much less one as inept as Longbottom. Also, all the points are back that I took from him today. So what did you do, just excuse him completely and have a good laugh at my expense?”

“No, Severus. I spent my evening offering Neville some remedial potions education. He really is bright. He just can’t think with you making fun of him all the time and belittling him.”

Somehow this information seems to make Snape angrier. “Everyone else may be besotted with you and your skills but not me. I see right through you. I may not know what game you and Albus are playing at, but listen closely. I will not be made into a FOOL!” He steps up so he and Loki are a foot apart. 

Finally, finally, Loki’s temper snaps. “ I’m not _playing_ you, Severus! I have no clue what idiotic ideas run around in that paranoid mind of yours, but my world does not revolve around you. You’re a bully, a cruel scared little boy who can’t seem to move beyond his own pain! You _enjoy_ making the students feel inferior because it makes you feel bigger! You are nothing but a COWARD.”

“DON’T CALL ME A COWARD!!” Snape screams at him.

“And what,” Loki leans in so there’s two inches between them, “are you going to do about it?”

Snape darts forward and slams his lips into Loki’s. Before he can even process what is happening, Severus has his hands in his hair and his tongue in his mouth and is biting at his lips. It’s the angriest kiss Loki’s ever had. After a moment, his brain kicks over and he’s grabbing right back at Severus, getting his hands into his hair and his mouth trailing hot kisses over his neck, sucking at the pulse point under his jaw. Snape makes a filthy nose in his throat that goes straight to Loki’s cock. 

He shoves his thigh between the Potion Master’s legs and is rewarded by the other man rocking against him, just as hard as he is. Loki is trying to unbutton Snape’s black coat and move them towards the bedroom when his leg connects with the end table. The tumbler of firewhiskey falls off and shatters on the floor. The sound seems to bring Severus back to himself. He breaks away and his eyes widen once he realizes what he’d been doing. He’s panting, his lips red and slick with salvia. Without a word, he turns and flees Loki’s quarters. 

Leaving the glass on the floor, Loki stumbles into the bedroom. He looks into the mirror and sees himself with kiss-swollen lips, his hair sticking out in all directions and his shirt half untucked and unbuttoned. His erection tents the front of his dress slacks and he’s breathing hard. He looks _wrecked_.

The mirror makes a happy sound at him. “Well, you should do that more often, dear. Debauched is a good look on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter. The lesson with Neville was the very first thing I actually wrote for this piece and everything else grew from it.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day is a Saturday and the first Quidditch match of the year: Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. Severus is absent from breakfast and as Loki arrives at the pitch, sees him sitting with a tall blonde man. He takes a seat next to the stranger who barely glances at him and continues his hushed conversation with Severus. Tall, exceptionally handsome with hair so blonde it looks white and eyes that were a steely shade of grey. He looks like an older version of Draco, which would make him the patriarch of the Malfoy clan, Lucius. The man served on the school’s Board of Governors’ and had provided the Slytherin team with state of the art brooms for the season in honor of his son scoring the coveted position of Seeker.

As the match prepares to start, the skies open up and a downpour drowns out the cheers of the crowd. Loki can make out the uniforms of the teams as they circle the pitch and can barely see the three large hoops at either end. Potter and Malfoy are engaged in a staring contest as Madam Hooch prepares to launch the balls into the air. Her whistle blows and the two teams dive for the Quaffle. Potter shots into the air in search of the Snitch. Malfoy darts around to each end of the pitch. As the two teams trade blows and scores, Loki tracks the two Seekers as they dart around. 

Potter seems to be in a constant state of dodging a Bludger. In and of itself, it wouldn’t be odd, but the Bludger in question seems to be focused entirely on Potter. Wood calls a time out and engages in an argument with two of the Weasley boys. Finally, a decision seems to be made and the match continues. Loki watches as Potter scans the field again and sees as he hesitates a moment too long in one spot. Before anyone can yell a warning, the Bludger slams into Harry’s arm, spinning him around and shattering the bones. Somehow, he manages to stay astride his broom. He rights himself, scans the field again and then forces his broom into a dive, directly amid at Draco Malfoy.

Next to him, Lucius leans forward. “What’s he doing?” Malfoy reaches for the snake head handle of his cane and begins to draw his wand. Loki strikes out with his foot and catches the cane, sending it tumbling down several rows and taking the wand with it. Lucius spins towards him. “You fool! Look what you’ve done! Clumsy oaf!” 

Loki simply smiles. “Whoops.” 

He glances out at the field as Potter makes a spectacular diving catch, coming up with the Snitch in his good hand. The match is over. Gryffindor has won. “Looks like the game is over.”

Lucius starts muttering darkly under his breath and darts out of his seat to retrieve his wand. Loki takes the man’s absence to turn towards Severus, to say something _anything_ but the dark wizard is already out of his own seat and heading towards the pitch. Loki follows his line of sight and sees why. Lockhart has made his way onto the pitch and seems to be attempting to heal Potter’s arm himself. 

Several minutes later and Gilderoy has successfully managed to remove all the bones from Potter’s arm instead of healing him. Insisting it could “happen to anyone” Lockhart hands Harry off to several members of the Gryffindor team who aid Potter in returning to the castle and into the care of Madam Pomfrey. 

Loki finally manages to get close to Severus in time to hear him launch into a tirade aimed at Lockhart. “Never, in all my years of teaching, have I seen such blatant idiocy in a professor. Somehow, Gilderoy, you managed to remove the bones from a student’s arm. Do you have any idea what Pomfrey is going to have to do to get that to regrow? You stupidity is only matched by your ego!” Lockhart opens and closes his mouth several times, but Snape simply talks over him. Finally out of breath, Snape spins on his heal and stalks away. Loki falls into step with him and smiles slyly. 

“Why, Severus. Did I hear you just stand up for Harry Potter?” Snape halts in his tracks and looks like he just sucked on a lemon. He shakes his head, clearly uneasy with the thought of offering any sort of aid to Potter and resumes his journey towards the castle. 

Loki sighs. “We need to talk about last night.”

Snape sharply shakes his head. “No, we do not.”

He tries again. “Severus, just because you don’t wish to talk about it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Avoiding the topic and me will change nothing.”

Snape again shakes his head as the two men closer to the castle. “It was a lapse in judgment on my part and shall not happen again. It meant nothing.” 

All at once, Loki feels like he’s falling off the Bifrost again. The same feeling of tumbling over into darkness and silence. He gasps a ragged breath as his chest constricts. Severus shoots him an odd look and manages to get a hold of his arm as his knees threaten to give out. Several students start to head their way, seeing Loki in distress. 

Snape waves them away and mutters something about “Professor Foster seems to have taken ill” and half drags Loki the rest of the way to the castle. All he can hear is the rushing in his ears and all he can feel is the crushing in his chest. 

Somehow Snape manages to drag him down into the dungeons and down a hallway he’s unfamiliar with and finally into a sitting room. He feels like he’s underwater, like he can’t catch his breath. He can hear Severus talking to him, saying something but he can’t find the will to focus on the words. A sharp, sudden pain across his check finally brings him back to himself.

He raises his hand to his face and feels the heat radiating from it. “You…you _slapped_ me.” 

Snape looks unrepentant. “You were unresponsive. I felt it was the best course of action.”

Loki snorts. “Of course I was unresponsive, you great bastard! You just told me that the best kiss I’ve ever had meant absolutely nothing! You just tore me to pieces! Well, let me tell you, Severus, let me tell you, that it meant something...it meant…” his voice cracks, “it meant something to me.”

Silence rains in the moments after his proclamation. Loki takes a deep breath and wraps himself in his magic, pulls it close to him like a cloak. It’s been the only friend he’s had for so many centuries; it will be all that shelters him now. He had endured loss and heartbreak before; he has endured falling through space and time and he will not be hobbled by a _mortal_ no matter how much it feels like he’s dying all over again----

“Say. That. Again.”

The deep voice serves to shake his focus. He looks up, confused. “What?”

The Potions Master looks stunned. Completely gobsmacked. “Say that…say it again,” he pauses, “please.”

Loki shallows past the lump that’s risen in his throat. “It meant something to me.”

Severus nods slowly and moves to sit next to Loki on the couch. Loki looks at him, really looks at him. What he sees stuns him. Beneath the cold, cruel shield of the Potion Master lies something else. He’d been right; Severus was scared. Scared of what was in front of him, scared to take that first tentative step off the edge and risk falling into the abyss. But Loki knows all about falling, and this leap could lead to flight, to soaring, to joy and love. He sees himself starring back from behind the black eyes. He gently takes the callused hand in his own and repeats, “It meant something to me.” 

Snape takes his remaining free hand and cups Loki’s face, running his thumb over his bottom lip. “I am…unaccustomed to shows of affection and the feelings that go with them. I am a difficult man prone to fits of rage and temper. I am not easily loved and terms of endearment mean little to me. I have loved one person for the whole of my life. When she died, I thought nothing would ever pierce the place in my heart that she lives in. But if you are willing to try…then perhaps so am I.”

Loki allows a flair of hope to flicker in his chest. He leans forward and brushes his lips over Severus’. “I am willing to try.” A quick smile tugs the corners of Snape’s mouth. Before they can move past a kiss, the fireplace leaps to life with green flames and Minerva pokes her head through. 

They separate quickly but the other professor seems unaffected by the display she witnessed.

“Ah! There you two are. Please, come quickly to the entrance hall. Something’s happened.” She disappears back into the flames and the fire extinguishes itself. 

Quickly the two men exit the room, which Loki realizes with a jolt are Severus’s private quarters. A grin twists his lips as he leans over and whispers, “perhaps I could arrange for a more private tour of your rooms later?” 

Snape stumbles for a moment before righting himself. “Indeed.”

As they make their way to the top of the stairs and into the entrance hall, Loki can immediately see the crowd gathered around in a circle. Something glitters along one wall and is reflected in a large puddle of water on the floor. Loki stiffens when he reads what is painted on the wall.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Hanging under the message are the stiffen and frozen forms of Mrs. Norris, the cat belonging to Mr. Filtch, and Colin Creevy, his camera pressed to his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot diverges from the novel at this point. I'd combined some events and omitted others.


	8. Author Note

Just a quick note to say that I haven't abandoned this! I'm currently in hard drive mode reworking some things and adding and removing others. Trying to fit in new content in the established story. I shall hopefully have something up by this weekend. I'm so sorry for the delay!!


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